Rainbow's End eBook

If I could come to you, I would, but I am marked.
So if you still desire me you must search me out.
You will? I pin my faith to that as to the Cross.
To doubt would be to perish. If we should have
to find another hiding-place, and that is always likely,
you can learn of our whereabouts from Colonel Lopez.

Alas! If you had asked me to go with you that
day! I would have followed you, for my heart
beat then as it beats to-day, for you alone.

The candle is burning low and it will soon be daylight,
and then this letter must begin its long, uncertain
journey. I must creep into my bed now, to pray
and then to dream. It is cold, before the dawn,
and the thatch above me rustles. I am very poor
and sad and lonely, O’Reilly, but my cheeks
are full and red; my lips could learn to smile again,
and you would not be ashamed of me.

Asensio is rising. He goes to find his horse
and I must close. God grant this reaches you,
some time, somehow. I trust the many blots upon
the paper will not give you a wrong impression of my
writing, for I am neat, and I write nicely; only now
the ink is poor and there is very little of it.
There is little of anything, here at Asensio’s
house, except tears. Of those I fear there are
too many to please you, my Juan, for men do not like
tears. Therefore I try to smile as I sign myself,

Your loving and your faithful

Rosa.

O God! Come quickly, if you love me.

VI

THE QUEST BEGINS

When O’Reilly had finished his second reading
of the letter there were fresh blots upon the pitifully
untidy pages. “I write nicely, only the
ink is poor—­” “There is little
of anything here at Asensio’s house—­”
“It is cold before the dawn—­”
... Poor little Rosa! He had always thought
of her as so proud, so high-spirited, so playful,
but another Rosa had written this letter. Her
appeal stirred every chord of tenderness, every impulse
of chivalry in his impressionable Irish nature.
She doubted him; she feared he would not come’
to her. Well, he would set her doubts at rest.
“O God! Come quickly, if you love me.”
He leaped to his feet; he dashed the tears from his
eyes.

Mr. Slack looked up astonished at the apparition which
burst in upon him. He was accustomed to O’Reilly’s
high head of steam and disapproved of it, but he had
never seen the fellow so surcharged as now. He
was positively jumpy; his voice was sharp; his hands
were unsteady; his eyes were bright and blue and hard.

“I want my salary, quick,” Johnnie began.

Mr. Slack resented emotion, he abominated haste; he
had cultivated what he considered to be a thorough
commercial deliberation.